


Turnaround

by Jay513 (orphan_account)



Category: Person of Interest (TV)
Genre: Angst, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Miracles, Near Death, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-31
Updated: 2013-04-08
Packaged: 2017-12-07 01:54:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 8,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/742806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/Jay513
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Re-edited into two separate chapters<br/>Root plots, schemes, digs, about the truth and how she twisted it... a laptop stolen...untold truths twisted into lies</p>
<p>Reese has trust issues Harold can't hurt people he loves anymore.</p>
<p> </p>
<p>photo manipulation done by bluetatto originally posted on Tumblr</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks to mamahub and menagerie 76
> 
> any screw-ups are totally my own
> 
> sorry if medical descriptions are inaccurate, I'm so not medically knowledgeable
> 
> Please leave kudos if you like this or helpful hints in comments how I can improve.

 

Turnaround

 John awoke to a hand gently shaking his shoulder. “Harold?” he asked quietly, before awareness fully overcame him.

“No John, it’s me, Carter”, Joss spoke gently, quietly. “Harold is still unconscious.” John sat up in the chair one of the nurses brought into ICU room five. He looked over at the bed surrounded by beeping monitors and IV stands.

 The nightmare that now filled John’s waking moments came crashing down on him in waves. Seeing the pale man, the only person he loved in this world, fighting with every breath to stay alive, was real. The loft, holding that man in his arms, was now a quickly dissipating dreamlike memory. Reality hit him in the gut, more painful than the sniper’s bullet from so many months ago. John was the reason his friend was in that bed.

 Carter’s voice interrupted his thoughts. “John, you need to go home and get some rest. I’ll stay here with Harold.”

 “I can’t leave him, Carter,” John spoke quietly, “not again.”

“John, you’re not going to do him any good, falling out yourself.” She looked up and into his eyes. She saw the grief tinged with guilt mirrored there. “At least go home, get a shower and change clothes.”  She sighed.  “I’ll stay with him until you get back”.

 John agreed to do only that, he knew rest would be impossible. He couldn’t rest now, maybe not ever again, if Finch died. So, he slowly got up from the chair and moved closer to the bed. He took one of the pale hands in his; with his other he gently smoothed the brown hair back from the ashen man’s forehead. John bent down to place a kiss gently there. “I’ll be going now, but only for a few hours. I’m coming back. Please don’t leave me. I need you. I love you.”

He held Harold’s hand a little longer, a little tighter. Then John abruptly let go, turned and strode out of the room.

Joss moved Reese’s chair closer to the bed. She picked up the hand John had held and gently spoke to the unconscious man, “You need to come back Harold. John needs you. He’s a good man because of you. If you go…..” Her words trailed off….she feared what Reese would do without Finch.

John returned to the loft.  Could it have been only forty-eight hours ago, only two days’ time? Reese’s life had gone from a shining light of hope and love beginning anew to the deepest darkest depths of a personal hell of his own making. Harold Finch was lying in a hospital bed, quite possibly dying, instead of here, lying in the bed they should have, would have shared.  Moreover, it was entirely his fault.

John’s memory would not let him forget.

_John looked out one the loft’s windows and at the park across the way. The act in itself wasn’t anything unusual, but the act had become a mantra to John. It was something he did to bring a feeling of calm and serenity after the conclusion of a particularly difficult case. Today though, the ritual did nothing to help calm him down. Today was different._

_John went back into the loft’s kitchen to check for at least the tenth time in the last hour on the meal he was preparing. Everything was as it should be; the aroma of roasting beef and vegetables permeated the kitchen.  John had to admit that it wasn’t the idea of his carefully prepared meal going up in smoke that had him so edgy, it was who was coming to the loft to share the meal and what was going to happen afterwards._

_John still couldn’t believe what had happened a few hours earlier. He had returned to the library after dealing with a rather easy case. Stopping a grandson from killing his elderly grandmother for his inheritance was one of those that had become quite the norm. Normal except the grandson had been trained in hand to hand and was very good with that knife. Before John had subdued the man, that knife had found its mark once, slicing open John’s jacket sleeve and a bit of the flesh underneath. After handing over the cuffed man to the detectives, John returned to the library to tend to the wound and debrief Harold about what happened like a hundred times before._

_Nothing that occurred next was anything out of the ordinary. Harold accompanied John to the crash room set up in one of the library’s auxiliary rooms. John removed his coat jacket and shirt while Harold readied the medical supplies. It was when Harold turned around, ready with gauze and antiseptic to clean the wound, John noticed Harold’s hands trembling. “Harold I can handle this okay.” With that Harold dropped the supplies back on the counter and abruptly left the room._

_After taking care of the cut with self-administered stitches and _some_ sterile strips, John returned to the main room to find Harold staring out the window. He walked over to stand quietly behind the man. All his employer did was tense up when he felt John’s presence behind him. “I just can’t do this anymore; I can’t send you out to be injured, maybe killed, not without telling you that I love you.” John gasped but Harold spoke quickly, as if he needed to make this confession.  “I didn’t know how to tell you; I have a hard time even explaining to myself that I am in love with another man; I love you John. Harold swallowed and sadly said, “You can leave now, never come back and I’ll understand.”_

_John reached out and gently pulled at the other man’s shoulder to get him to turn around. “I’m not going anywhere. I love you too. I have for so long now. I never thought you would ever love me back. “_

_John lowered his head to kiss Harold_ _gently. It started out a subtle, soft meeting of the lips, but each one parted their mouths and began hungrily to taste each other’s teeth, tongue, and lips. After long minutes of feasting on Harold’s sweetness, John reached out to begin unbuttoning Harold’s waistcoat. He needed to touch the skin of the man under all those clothes._

_Harold grabbed his hands and shakily asked John to stop. “Not here John, let’s take this slow.”_

_John nodded his understanding. “Come to my place then, we can go from there, figure out where this is going together. Stay with me tonight and however long we have left Harold, please?”_

_Harold swallowed and looked searchingly into John’s eyes. “I’ll grab some things and be there in …”_

_A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. Harold was here. Some of the tenseness left John then. He was here._

Reese shook the cobwebs and memories from his head. John slowly walked into his apartment.  He had planned to grab some clean clothing and take a quick shower, and then afterwards, go back to the hospital.  The sight of the loft changed those plans.

John walked over to the small dining table which was still covered with the remnants of the meal they had shared.  He tried not to recall why the meal was half eaten, the wine unfinished in the glasses. The candles he had lit on a romantic whim had burned down to their bases in the holders.  

John then went into his kitchen, returning with the trash bin and grabbed the tablecloth by corners, dumping the contents: tablecloth and all, into the container.

John shook his head trying not to think of the last night he was here in the loft. He continued once again to gather his clean clothing and head for the bathroom to take a shower.

Instead he was drawn towards the bed seeing the trail of clothing leading there. He picked up his suit jacket; Harold’s jacket, vest, tie, shirt and tee, all left lying where they had been removed and dropped. John took up each item and carried everything in a bundle and deposited them on the bed and slowly sat down.

John reached out with a slightly trembling hand and pulled Harold’s shirt to his face.  He breathed in the odor that was so distinctive of the man he loved. Green tea, old books, sweat and Harold’s cologne combined to create a scent that brought into mind a mental image of the man that was the center of John’s world. For the first time in a long time John allowed himself to cry. In between the heart rending sobs, he choked out, “What have I done?” As memories of that night came back into his mind. 

_John opened the door to find Harold with a garment bag draped over one arm that hand clutching a smaller black bag and his other hand holding the handle of a small suitcase. John reached out and took the cases from the man’s hands and invited him in. “We’ll just put your cases and your suits in the closet for now, decide later where to put things, in the meantime food’s ready,” John stammered nervously. “I’ll put these things away. If you want poor us some wine and I’ll be back in a bit and dish up.”_

_When John returned he found Harold standing at the table, waiting, wine poured.  The older man appeared to be as nervous as John felt. The taller man moved to stand in front of his friend, taking Harold’s face in his hand, and bent his own head to feather light kisses over the other man’s lips, nose and cheeks.  “It’s okay, he whispered, we’ll be okay.”_

_Breaking away regretfully, John pulled out a chair and motioned for Harold to sit. He went to the kitchen, dished up two plates of the roasted beef with the accompanying vegetables, and returned to the table. Setting one plate in front of his friend, John couldn’t help but caress Harold’s shoulder briefly with his now empty hand, before setting down the other plate and sitting in the chair adjacent to the other man._

_When John had seated himself he tentatively looked over at his older dinner companion. Harold appeared to be as uncertain as John was feeling at the moment. Trying to break some of the tension, John raised his glass to Harold at which the other man returned the gesture. “To new beginnings,” John toasted._

_“To new beginnings,” Harold repeated._

_They both began eating. John took a few bites of the food, satisfied that it had indeed turned out as delicious as he had hoped. Out of the corner of his eye he watched Harold fork tiny bits of the meat and the vegetables into his mouth chewing slowly, apparently enjoying the fare. Harold’s softly spoken words made John turn his head to fully look at the other’s face._

_“I’m sorry John. The food is quite excellent, but I’m afraid I’m just not hungry….for food.” John could hear the nervousness in the man’s words, but his eyes showed something completely different. John could see the unbridled desire there. The next moment they were both standing grabbing at each other pulling one another close. Their lips met not lightly but hungrily, each one passionately trying to devour the other._

_Each man began to undress his soon-to-be lover, while John carefully walked them back towards the bed. Harold had removed John’s jacket and unbuttoned his shirt, reaching up under John’s tee to caress the taught smooth skin found there. John though had pulled off everything above Harold’s waist to get to the naked skin underneath. When their progress was halted by their legs bumping the edge of the bed, John stopped kissing Harold’s mouth. “We can stop here,” John panted._

_Harold huskily answered, “No, please don’t stop, show me how to make love with you, make love to me.”…._

The ringing of John’s phone broke him away from his thoughts. Fear grabbed at his heart until he saw the caller ID… **_Fusco._**

**_“_** Yeah,” John answered.

“I heard what happened. If you need anything, call me. I pray that Finch is going to be okay. You need anything, I mean anything at all, you call,” Fusco sounded determined and sympathetic.

“Yeah,” John said, “and Lionel…Thanks.”

John reverently placed the shirt he was holding back down on the bed next to the bundle of clothing. He gently tried to smooth the shirt’s wrinkles with his hands. He then picked up Finch’s waistcoat straightening then laying it over the shirt. Harold’s suit jacket and tie soon followed. Thinking of his fastidious boss and the state of the clothing brought a sad mournful smile to John’s lips as he remembered how the clothes were discarded

_John toed his shoes off, Harold following his lead._ _He then sat on the edge of the bed pulling the other man down to sit alongside him. John leaned toward Harold and began kissing and licking at the other man’s ear. Briefly, he sucked on the left earlobe. Hands on Harold’s chest, John could feel as well as hear his partner’s quick intake of breath._

_“Harold, please touch me?” he whispered in the man’s ear and drew back. John pulled off the unbuttoned shirt and drew the undershirt over his head in one swift movement, tossing both to the floor._

_“I don’t know, John. Where? Help, I don’t know how?” John reached out grabbing Harold’s hands and placed them on his own chest, palms out flat._

_“Here… now… here… please?” John whispered his plea. He removed his own hands and gripped Harold’s thighs.  Gliding his hands lightly from knees to hips and back again, at times gently kneading the muscles under Harold’s suit pants._

_Finch instinctively tried to fulfill John’s needs…and his own. He ran his hands over his partner’s stomach. Fingers lightly traced the outlines of the hard abdominal muscles there. Brushing slowly upwards he stopped at the brown nubs of Reese’s nipples, to pinch them slightly between thumb and forefinger. “Oh, Mister Reese, you’re beautiful,” he whispered, elongating each syllable almost breathlessly._

_John gazed through half lidded eyes to see Harold licking at his lips as if wanting to taste those pebbles hardened from the attention_ of his _fingers._

_“Oh yes…please….” John assented breathlessly and reached up to place his hands at the back of Finch’s head, pulling it carefully downwards. Harold tentatively licked at one hardened nub then the other. Feeling John tremble at his touch Harold started sucking and lathing the right nipple._

_It was giving_ _John such pleasure. One that he was sure he had never felt before in all his lovemaking. His boss…friend…now lover was making him feel this exquisite sensation. He rained kisses on the top of Harold’s head, while running fingers through the soft brown hair._

_After deliriously long moments, John had to pull Harold’s head up. His lover blinked a few times. “Was it not…?” Before the rest of the words could come, John moved in to_ _kiss him passionately._

_Bringing his hands to encircle Harold’s torso, he gently lowered them both on the bed. Throwing his right leg over and hooking it under the other man’s left knee, Reese sinuously moved his groin against Finch’s left thigh a few times. Pulling back and grabbing Finch’s left hand, he placed it on his burgeoning erection. “Yes it was. Touching me here so much better”, he gasped against the lips he had barely moved away from._

_John couldn’t help but release Harold’s hand and reach over to palm the other man’s crotch._ _He squeezed the erection that was waiting for him. “You want me as much as I want you?” He was not really questioning._

_“Yes John,” was the answer._

_John rose from the bed to remove his slacks pulling down the zipper. He watched Harold fumbling with his own button fly. “Wait with that. I’ll help you, help you get ready. Just watch me please?”_

_It was then John’s phone began a constant stream of text alerts._

Reese blinked back to reality and angrily got up. He began tearing away at his soiled and dirty clothing not caring if he damaged anything. He grabbed a clean pair of briefs and an undershirt and stumbled towards the bathroom to shower.

Reese roughly opened the shower door, until it made a resounding thud when it reached its limits. He turned on the faucets, adjusted the water to just under scalding and stepped in, shutting the door again with more force than necessary. Grabbing the bar of soap, he started scrubbing vigorously as if trying to clean the memories away. It really didn’t stop them from flooding his mind again and he leaned his forehead against the wall under the showerhead.

_The endless stream of text alert tones could not be ignored. Annoyed with the interruption, John walked over to where his jacket had been dropped and snatched it up. Pulling out his cell, John was fully prepared to smash it against the nearest wall if he couldn’t figure out why the phone was going crazy._

_John stilled suddenly looking at the phone’s message streams. **John…you need to look at this....Harold didn’t tell you the truth…your partner is a liar….ROOT….** each message repeated  in sequence, over and over. As if knowing John was reading them the repetition stopped and one new message popped up… **Check your email!!!!!**_

_“What is it John?” Harold asked worriedly after seeing the look on John’s face._

_“It’s Root. She wants me to check my email.” Reese said warily. What is the bitch up to now, he thought to himself._

_John went over to the small computer Harold had set up there in case they needed it. Pressing the power button at the front of the monitor had it flickering to life in seconds. He was shocked when the email client popped up without a prompt. Hesitantly he moved the cursor to click on the suspect email._

_Reese watched out of the corner of his eye as Finch stood up from the bed and walked over to stand beside him. He looked back at the screen and clicked, it was clearly labeled **ROOT** as the sender. _

_Both men started when file after file began to open. Surveillance photos of Nathan Ingram, Ingram with Alicia Corwin, Corwin talking with various men, one John recognized as Hersh, Corwin talking with Reese and Stanton, transcripts of audio conversations written in text along with each photo._

_John didn’t read everything but could tell that it was about the laptop they were sent to retrieve during that fateful Ordos mission. There was file footage of Ingram reporting to the NSA about the stolen laptop and the current location of the laptop; Corwin reporting the details to her superiors; Ingram, Corwin, and a group of men deciding to send a CIA team to China to retrieve it. File after file._

_Most disturbing of the files were photos and transcripts of the group deciding the laptop must be destroyed and the CIA agents assassinated. The barrage ended at last with a message from Root…. **The man you are trying to protect, you were about to get involved with, is as flawed as the rest of them…he lied to you….is he truly worthy of your loyalty and protection?**_

_Reese turned angrily “Is any of this true? Ingram was your beard! You were behind everything!_ _John grabbed his own hair in frustration. “You lied to me from the beginning!   Get out of my way.” He pushed around the shocked man and grabbed his clothes. He sat on the bed, pulled on his shirt, and put on his shoes._

_“John. Listen to me.” Harold began agitatedly. “Most of it is true. I don’t know where she got those files, but she altered them. I’m so sorry I never told you but I never lied to you.” He cried urgently.  “Could you just let me explain?”_

_“Save it.” John snapped. “You withheld this from me. You knew I was almost killed. I wasn’t able to save Jess because they sent me on your mission. She was killed because of you.  I have to get out of here. John ran his hand over his face then sneered. “You really had me going. You played me for a fool.” His eyes were dark with fury. “I quit.”_

_John furiously rose and moved toward the door. Harold tried to step in front to stop him. Without thinking Reese violently shoved Finch out of the way, not caring that the man fell to the floor._

_“John…Don’t leave…please.  ” Harold pleaded: futilely, painfully, trying to get up.  John slammed out the door not hearing or caring._


	2. Chapter 2

 

John let the water cascade down on him. He couldn’t wash away the painful memory of seeing Harold crumpled on the floor, pleading for him not to leave. He couldn’t bear the thought that Harold’s final memory of their time together consisted of anger and pain. John fisted his hands and began punching at the tiles covering the shower walls, and then slid down to his knees. Painful sobs wracked his body.

Cold water spraying down his back roused him from his suffering and got him up from his knees. He turned off the water and left the shower. Grabbing a towel, he dried off. John looked at himself in the mirror and for the first in his life truly hated the man he saw looking back at him. He hurriedly finished drying himself, pulled on his briefs and tee and left the bathroom.

Grabbing a clean shirt, slacks and socks from his closet he went back to the bed and began dressing.

Reese grabbed his jacket to get his cell when he heard its ringtone. Seeing the caller’s name, he hurriedly hit talk and lifted the phone to his ear. “Carter?”

“John, you need to hurry and get back to the hospital. It’s not good.”

John hung up the phone. He hurriedly finished dressing, grabbed his coat and rushed out the door. Deciding to take his car, not a borrowed one, he sped out of the apartment’s parking area.

Traffic was at a standstill at times, leaving John cursing under his breath. Worry consumed him about not getting back to the hospital in time. However, it didn’t stop his mind from wandering to the last time he had driven this route on his way out of town in a borrowed car, Bear in the back, enjoying the unexpected car trip.

_John hurried down the stairs, declining to use the elevator, in his rush to leave the building. Using the elevator meant waiting, something in his anger he didn’t want to do. He was so angry with Finch and didn’t want to see him again, ever, a possibility if Harold caught up to him while waiting._

_Deciding not to take his car (the one Finch had given to him anyways) Reese walked out of the building and down the street for several blocks. When he reached a vehicle unwatched by any eyes, John jimmied the lock, hotwired the ignition, started the car and was on his way towards the library in less than two minutes._

_Reese parked close to the library but out of view of the surveillance cameras he knew Finch had installed there. After walking the final block or so, he keyed open the lock on the secured gate, unlocked the door and entered the building. Reese then ran up the steps and into the main computer room.  He tossed his cell phone and wallet on the desk, grabbed a roll of cash Finch kept hidden there, a duffel of some his extra clothing, a couple of handguns from his stash and was headed back down the stairs within minutes._

_Still feeling the anger and hurt of Harold’s betrayal John called for Bear to come with him. Bear was **his** dog and Harold no longer deserved protection. Let Root, the NSA’s goons or anyone with a grudge come after him. John no longer cared._

_As John was walking back to the stolen car, he saw Harold sitting in the back of a passing taxi. Quickly rounding the corner of the closest building, he watched hidden from view._

_Harold got out of the taxi in front of the library, paid the driver, and limped to the entrance in the construction fencing. Apparently he hadn’t noticed his tall ex-employee and their dog walking down the street._

_Reese finished walking to the car, loaded Bear and his duffel of clothes, guns and money in the back seat, then was in the driver’s seat driving away, headed anywhere out of the city. ‘See how little I care Harold, I left your fortress unlocked, I took Bear, you don’t deserve our protection anymore’ all angry thoughts that flooded his mind as he drove._

_John drove on autopilot, unaware of his surroundings. Bear’s restlessness finally pulled him back to realize he was on I-87 south of Albany, 50 miles from the city.  It was amazing he had made it this far without causing an accident, driving out of a major city and on a busy interstate_

_Reese exited the interstate as soon as he saw signs indicating fuel, food, and facilities with an area designated for pets.  Bear’s whines were getting worse. John fueled the car, and then allowed Bear out to do his business. They both went back to the car, John opening the backdoor to let the dog back in._

_John got in the driver’s seat again, about to turn on the car to continue their journey. Again Bear started whining and nuzzling the back of his owner’s neck. Reese turned to try and figure out why Bear was still acting so strangely. When he turned to look back, the dog started pawing at the duffle. He pulled it from the back seat to the front and opened it to search for whatever Bear wanted in it. Moving the clothing around, he saw it then, Harold’s tie. How the hell…? Pulling it out, it flashed through John’s mind the last time he’d seen Harold wearing it. On the roof, Harold disarming the bomb vest._

_Memories bombarded his mind, Harold disarming the bomb, Harold limping around to grab him when he’d been shot, and a dozens of flashes of things **his friend**  had said or done in between.  **His friend**!!!_

_John felt as if he’d been kicked in the gut. It was with sudden clarity that John knew he had been wrong. Harold was not the liar Root made him out to be. All the anger was gone, in its place there was sorrow and guilt. He had believed a mad-woman's words instead of trust in the man who had saved John's life. A man John knew he still loved._

_“Okay, Bear, thanks. We’re going home to Harold,” if he’ll have me back. John started up the car and drove back in the direction they had come from, silently praying he wasn’t too late, that he could fix his screw-up._

 John finally made it to the hospital. He needed to be in the present. Harold needed him. He hurried to the intensive care ward to meet Carter in the waiting room. “What! Joss, tell me… what?” he fearfully asked when he saw her tear filled eyes. “He’s not…?”

“No John, Harold’s still alive” but then she held on to his arm as she continued, “He flat lined, but they got him back. They don’t think he’ll make it through the night though.”

If Carter hadn’t been holding his arm and helped him back to one of the waiting room chairs, his legs would have buckled beneath him. Leaning his head back against the wall and closing his eyes, he said “I killed him, the gun might not have in my hands but I’m the one who shot him.”

“John, what happened? What do you mean, you shot him? Carter questioned. “Talk to me! What happened in that building?”

“They were going to kill the girl. I wasn’t around. Finch went in alone, to do what, I don’t know. They knew they would kill him too. I don’t think he cared, because of me, what I did, “John confessed.

“It was Root. She sent doctored files of surveillance footage, transcripts of taped conversations, operation orders.” John placed his head in his hands in shame and despair. “I believed all of it. I trusted the word of an insane woman.” He lifted his head. “I disregarded nearly two years of trust in a man who saved my life twice. I didn’t believe in a man who risked his life every day for me and total strangers but in a woman who I knew had tried to hurt both of us.” John’s face crumbled in pain as he stared at the door to Harold’s room. “Now Harold’s in there dying and I am the one responsible.” He hung his head in shame remembering.

_It seemed like days instead of hours before Reese got back into the city, back to the library. He parked in the first empty spot he could find close to the library_.  _He wiped down the stolen car as best he could, let Bear out and grabbed his bag. Unconcerned about attracting attention, John almost ran the short distance to the library._

_John ran past the open construction gate, pulled open the unlocked library door, and took the steps two at a time. He went through open sliding security gate into the main room. Reese pulled up short seeing the empty chair at the computer desk. Bear shoved pass him to seek out his other owner._

_Reese turned to leave to try to find Harold, sensing he was longer there. Bears low whines and sniffing around for Harold only confirmed his suspicions. He then noticed a photo tacked to the cracked glass panel. A photo of a young woman and various other printouts of relevant information were taped there. Her name is Amanda Sterling, age 20, daughter and heiress of the late Alexander Sterling, the print outs informed._

_Harold had returned to the library. He was not looking for John; it was because the machine had given Finch a new number. Of course, even when the man’s world had gone to hell, the numbers still mattered._

_John went to the desk hoping to find his cell and earpiece, to try getting in contact with Finch or track him down, to go help even if he wasn’t welcome to. It wasn’t on the desk so he looked around hoping to find it, when Reese noticed it smashed against the wall._

_John dropped into the desk chair, shaking his head in defeat. In frustration, he pounded his fist on the table causing all of the computer’s monitors to flicker back open._

_That Finch had left his computers on was only a moment’s thought as John saw what was on the screens._

_The woman was due to receive 10 million dollars on her 21 st birthday in three weeks was information on one screen. Photos of an older step-brother alone and talking to some men, criminal records for those men were all displayed on various other screens. A video feed opened of those men dragging the scared young woman into a vacant business complex. John knew it was near the library._

_However, the last feed is what filled Reese with panic. Finch was entering the building alone and unarmed. “Damn it Harold, you’re going to get yourself killed,” he thought. Fear gripped his heart. The computers left on, the unlocked doors, the open gates, all meant Finch wasn’t planning on coming back. He didn’t care if their base was found. He wanted to die._

_Reese flew down the stairs. Its close I can make it. I have to make it. The thoughts spurred him on. He could see the building. “Faster John, move faster! He needs you,” ran through his mind. He could hear police sirens approaching; the cops wouldn’t get there in time. It was up to him. “Move! Move!” his mind screamed at him._

_Not thinking he burst through the door and barged into the room. It only took seconds for him to hear the shot, see Harold fall, and fire a kill shot into the man holding the gun. Bear charged past taking down the other man before he could fire his weapon at John._

_John ran to his partner, falling to his knees and gathering Harold’s limp body into his arms. The barely conscious man looked up at him, “John?”_

_“Yeah it’s me,” Reese sobbed out. “It’s me. I’ve got you now. I’m never letting you go again. I’m going to get help. You’ll be all right.”_

_“I’m sorry John, I’m so sorry. I won’t be the cause of your pain anymore. I do love you,” Harold managed to gasp out before losing consciousness._

_Someone behind yelled, “Police!” He recognized it was Carter._

_John turned so she could see his face. “Call an ambulance, Finch’s been shot.”_

_Reese barely noted the activity around as he knelt there holding the bleeding man. Carter arresting the surviving gunman, his being led away by a uniformed officer, Bear being leashed and lead to Carter’s squad car, none of it registered._

_It was under 30 minutes that it took for the ambulance to arrive, the EMTs to stabilize Finch, load him in the ambulance and drive to get to the hospital. Nevertheless, it seemed like hours. Time seemed to be passing in slow motion._

_John jumped down from the ambulance. He had almost threatened the EMTs at gunpoint to let him ride along._

_“Who are you?” one of them had demanded._

_“I’m his **partner**.” No one questioned John after that. He just held his friend’s hand when he could during the drive to the hospital. Now he followed them, Finch on the gurney, the EMTs pushing it through the emergency entrance._

_They wheeled Finch into surgery. A nurse took what information she could from a concerned John.  She took down the patient’s name, John’s relationship, insurance info. All information that Harold had invented in case something like this happened was given to her._

_Reese waited and after three hours of surgery a nurse came out and told him Mr. Byrd was in recovery but was still in critical condition.  She kindly said, “You can come in the room and sit with him if you’d like.”_

_John followed her into ICU five. After walking to the bed, he picked up Harold’s hand and said quietly, “I’m here now. I love you.” He stared down at the ashen face. John felt so bone weary then. He moved the chair close to the bed, sat down, and watched. Exhaustion, days without sleep, worry, all combined to pull him under._

_The next thing he knew Carter was shaking his shoulder._

“John, you have to be strong. You beating yourself up won’t help him now. Just go be with Harold.” Carter comforted him. “I’m sorry I have to leave you like this, but I need to get back to the station. I need to head the investigation away from you,” she said quietly. She took his hand, squeezed it gently and released it; then she stood and left the waiting area.

Reese remained sitting there staring blankly at the opposite wall. He was roused by a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m Dr. Jensen. Are you Mr. Byrd’s husband?” an older dark haired man asked. John nodded in affirmation. “Mr. Byrd’s vitals are steadily declining. He needs another surgery. Indications are there is still internal bleeding, but we can’t operate again this soon. He’s just too weak. An operation now would kill him.”

Dr. Jensen continued clinically, “I saw in his chart he that was injured severely in an accident about three years ago. That much trauma to the body within such a small timeframe is sometimes too much for it to handle. It just gives out. I’m truly sorry Mr. Russell. We’ve done all we can for now.”

“Can I stay with him? “John asked, voice breaking.

“Yes, I’ll have a nurse take you back,” Dr. Jensen more kindly now.

The ER nurse from before took Reese back to ICU 5 again. John choked back a sob when he saw Harold again. His skin was deathly white, and his closed eyes dark and sunken, his nose and mouth covered by an oxygen mask.

The nurse quietly said, “We’re monitoring him at the station.” She showed him the call button. “Press the button if you need anything. I’ll leave you alone with him now.” With a sympathetic look she turned and left the room.

Tears started rolling down John’s face as moved close to the bed. He temporarily removed the oxygen mask to lightly kiss Harold on his cheeks then lips. He lowered his head to lay it upon Harold’s chest. Hearing Harold’s faintly beating heart struggling to keep going , he fisted the hospital gown and cried into it, “Oh God forgive me!”

When he felt like he could shed no more tears, John raised his head. Without thinking about any hospital rule, John slid off his shoes and climbed onto the hospital bed lying prone on Finch’s side. He was going to hold his love in his arms again. John stretched his left arm above Harold’s head and covered the upper chest with his right.  The best he could do to hold the man he loved so much.

John laid his head down on his left arm and whispered in Harold’s ear, “Stay with me. Don’t go. I’m here, can you feel me? Use my strength. Try to stay with me. Don’t go.” Every time he felt Harold breath falter or thought his heart would stop beating, “Stay with me. Don’t go.” He’d whisper in Finch’s ear. All through the night John held him and repeated the words.

Out at the station, one of the night shifts nurse began to complain about a man in a patient’s bed. The nurse on duty said “Leave him be, look at these readouts.” Mr. Byrd’s vital signs were stabilizing, steadily improving. “I think we are looking at a miracle.”

Hospital staff carried out their nightly routines, then a shift change. Through it all, no one bothered the men in ICU 5. A day shift nurse left the room smiling after doing her AM checks. The dark haired man was soundly sleeping, the patient’s hand with the IVs holding on to the arm across his chest.

*~*~*

Reese groggily opened his eyes. “When did I fall asleep?” he thought. Sensing that it was early morning, he moved to get up from the bed where he was lying beside Finch. He was in a bed with Harold, not the loft’s bed. They were in….a hospital bed? The mugginess of waking cleared from his mind. Harold’s hand was weakly gripping his arm. “Wait! He was gripping his arm.”

Not thinking, John pulled away from the other man’s grip and half rolled off the bed to stand beside it. He looked down at what looked to be the still unconscious man. He wasn’t, he wasn’t ….

No not unconscious, even! Harold was opening his eyes. He looked around, disoriented, until he saw John.

John looked back into those eyes filled briefly with fear, then relief, and finally questioning. 

Harold’s right hand then reached up to remove the oxygen mask. John reached to help, while saying, “No don’t try to talk.” Bending to kiss him into silence, he repeated in between kisses, “It’s okay now. I’m here, don’t talk.”                                                             

Harold still managed to say weakly in between John’s kisses, “I’m sorry….I should have…I tried…I couldn’t help…I was too late…I’m so sorry”.

John raised his head and put his hand on Harold’s face and looked him in the eyes and said in a trembling voice “There’s nothing to be sorry for. You just get better. I’m the one that screwed up. I’m the one that’s sorry.”

They were interrupted by a nurse and a doctor both entering the room. “Good!” Dr. Jensen said. “You’re both awake.” He spoke to the two men as if it was an everyday occurrence to enter a room expecting to find patient and partner still asleep…in the same bed.

 “I’m sorry to break this up but we need to prep Mr. Byrd for surgery again.” Dr. Jensen said while looking at the patient’s chart. Looking up at Harold he said, “You’ll be fine Mr. Byrd, we just need to fix you up a bit more.”  The doctor turned to John and said “Can I speak with you outside, Mr. Russell?”

Outside the room the doctor informed John, “Your husband vitals have improved enough that we can go ahead and operate again. His condition is still critical as there are still signs of internal bleeding I need to find. I can’t tell you there aren’t risks, but barring unseen complications, Mr. Byrd should get through the surgery just fine. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to get ready.”

As the doctor walked away, John went back into the room. The nurse was busy readying Harold for surgery. Walking over to Harold, John picked up his hand and kissed it. “You are going to be fine. I’ll be here when you wake up,” he reassured Harold. At that his friend closed his eyes, the anesthesia taking affect.

“I’ll be in the waiting room,” John said to the man he loved so much.  Harold briefly opened his eyes and gave John a small crooked smile that remained on his face as he slipped into medicated slumber. The fear that had been squeezing John's heart finally released its grip. He knew Harold wouldn’t leave him now. John left the room grinning.

Mr. Byrd did make it through the surgery with no complications. After a few hours in recovery he was taken to a private room on the third floor for recovering surgical patients.

For the next two weeks, hospital procedures were figuratively tossed out the window. Except for dispensing medications and changing IV bags, Mr. Russell did everything that involved caring for Mr. Byrd. Even the not so pleasant details of Mr. Byrd’s bodily functions, Mr. Russell took care of it all. Both were quite relieved when the patient was able to use the restroom again, his strong friend helping him walk.

Only in the two hours that Mr. Russell left the hospital each day, were the nurses were able to perform their duties if Mr. Byrd needed something. That was seldom as the patient rarely asked for anything, usually waiting for his spouse to return.

Night procedures were also ignored as the staff found Mr. Russell had no intention of leaving when visiting hours were over. At times when the nurses would check in, John would be stretched out on the small couch in the room. But most nights, both men lay together in the bed holding each other in sleep. The night nurses were told more than a few times not to disturb John, as he slept, by Harold.

It became break room gossip and hospital scuttlebutt about the gay married couple in room 362. Some talk was of how “It just isn’t right.” But mainly it was. “They are so in love.” “The tall good looking man is so devoted to his partner.” “Those two were just made for each other.” There was even a, “Forget it girl, he’s not on that team,” when a volunteer had asked her friend who was the dish she kept seeing around.

John was sitting in a chair watching some show on the Discovery channel that Harold seemed to be engrossed in, when Dr. Jensen came in during his morning rounds.

“Harold. You are doing well enough to be released. John, you can take your partner home as soon as the hospital release paperwork is done,” the doctor told them.

John sat on the bed alongside Harold. “Thank you doctor, I can’t wait to take him home.” And then he winked at Harold.

The doctor just chuckled to himself when he saw Harold’s blushing face.

The staff had all noticed Harold’s embarrassment at times over John’s open flirting. But everyone knew he loved it regardless.

“I’m advising no strenuous activities for a few weeks, minimum, and after that take things slowly. Doctor’s orders.” the surgeon instructed. “Either of you have any questions?” When both said no, he left the room wishing them, “Good luck.

John grabbed Harold’s hand and smiled, “We’re going home.”

Harold squeezed John’s hand back, “Yes, home.”

 

Epilogue

Harold Finch sat at Reese’s computer doing the best he could at tracking down information about their latest number. He cursed under his breath chastising himself for the hundredth time for not setting up a better system here at the loft. Granted, this computer was linked to his system at the library. But it just wasn’t as efficient, not being able to bring up multiple screens of data at once.

It had been two months since he had been shot. Finch had been annoyed when John brought him back to the loft. Harold had made arrangements for his post-hospital care at one of his apartments. He thought it best that he and John be apart for a while until they dealt with what had happened between them after Root’s machinations. All of his objections vanished when John had pulled him in his arms and said, “We’re home”.

Harold said nothing when he felt the silent sobs wracking the other man’s body.

So here he was feeding John information. Information that he hoped would bring John home safe once more.

Reese wouldn’t let Carter or Fusco handle any of the numbers alone. It was like he was trying to atone for walking out on him after believing Root’s lies by saving the numbers by day and caring for Harold at night. No matter how many times Harold told him there was nothing to forgive, that he was as much at fault, John would not give himself a break.

John speaking into the earpiece roused him out of his thoughts. “Everything’s taken care of Finch. Anne is safe; her ex is in Carter’s custody. I’ll be there soon.”

 John’s heavy breathing had Harold asking “What’s wrong?”

“Finch, don’t worry so much. It’s nothing. I’ll be there soon”. With that John disconnected his call.

Later, “nothing” turned out to be badly bruised knuckles, a cut over one eye, and some very sore ribs.  “The ex was once a Golden Gloves champ. He got in a few punches.” John laughed as Finch surveyed the damage.

“Tonight I’m taking care of you, Mr. Reese. Let’s get you cleaned up, showered and into bed. It’s late. And I won’t hear any of you’re supposed to be taking care of me nonsense,” Harold chided.

Harold realized how exhausted John really was when he allowed himself to be herded into bed without complaint. Finch then stripped down and slid into the bed, cuddling up to the already sleeping man.

Finch couldn’t sleep; he just lay there for hours stroking John’s body. Harold was filled with wanting; he could feel himself hardening; he wanted his body to be John’s. He was ready.

John was wakened by Harold kissing his face and a hand caressing his chest.  “Harold?”

“I want you John. You promised to make me yours. It’s time to keep your promise.” Harold then kissed him on the mouth pressing his tongue inside, at the same time grinding his erection into John’s hip.

John returned the kiss, then had to pull away and told him, “There’s nothing more than I want than to be inside you but it’s too soon.” John grabbed at Harold when he began to move away misunderstanding and upset. “I can do something else though, almost as good for us. “

He took Harold’s hand and put placed it over his own hardening erection. Hand on hand, they started a rhythm. “You make me feel good, so good,” he whispered. When John could feel the pressure building for blessed release, he pulled their hands away.

“Can you turn on your side and face away from me?” he breathed through his and Harold’s kisses

“Yes. I think so,” as Harold turned on his side and adjusted the pillows.

John reached in the bedside drawer and pulled out the tube of lubrication he bought for that first night. Pushing those memories away he slicked up his erection.

He then reached between Harold’s inner thighs, lifting his right leg a bit. John applied some lube between the other’s man’s thighs. Removing his hand, he replaced it with his cock. “Grip me with your thighs, as hard as you can. It won’t hurt.”

John pushed his left arm underneath his lover and pulled him close to his chest, left hand caressing Harold’s own furry chest and down. When his hand brushed over the freshly healed scarring, John couldn’t help but hold Harold tighter.

Grabbing Harold’s cock in his right hand, he began stroking it in time with the thrusts of his hips. "Soon you will feel me inside you.  My cock will be so hard and hot wanting you.

“When you’re ready, I want  **this** in me,” Reese gently squeezed and stroked Harold’s cock to emphasize his point. “You understand? You’re mine Harold Finch, and I’m yours.”

Pushing his cock forward and then pulling back, he stroked the hardness in his hand to the same rhythm, until he heard, “John! I…I…I’m…coming.”

“Let go my love. Let go.”

John felt a spasm gripping Harold’s body hard and then his cock twitched, spilling its white-hot passion over John’s hand. The clenching of his lover’s thighs on his own arousal pushed him over the edge, covering them with his ejaculate.

The lovers held each other until heart rates and breathing slowed. John went trying to disentangle himself but was stopped by Harold clutching at his arm, asking John to hold him just the way they were. They both closed their eyes and drifted off to sleep.

 

John woke hours later and gently pulled away, careful to not disturb his sleeping lover.

He padded to the restroom and cleaned himself up. He was wet warming a cloth to do the same for Harold when he heard a text alert coming from the cell still in the jacket he’d discarded earlier. He pulled it out and saw that the sender was Root! Without reading the text, he hit reply and sent this back. WE’RE TOGETHER NOW. TRY TO USE ME TO HURT HIM AGAIN AND I WILL KILL YOU.

 

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Roots still out there  
> II might be fudging timelines but I think Harold was in his accident and couldn't help Jessica in time, and was there in New Rochell "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry" sorry he couldn't be there, maybe Reese was a number once but Harold didn't try to stop Reese from taking care of Arnt....  
> Again kudos please if you liked this. I am very insecure lol, I hate to think 580 some readers hated it.


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